Dropping to his knees, he aimed toward the spring and pulled the trigger.
Several brown, chicken-like birds lifted off the ground. Some flew into the bushes by the spring, others fluttered across the prairie.
The horses started at the sound of the rifle. Erik pulled hard on the reins to keep the horses from moving.
“Let ’em go.” Olaf walked beside the horses, stooping to pick up a dead bird.
“They make good eating,” he said, dropping it onto the stoneboat.
“What are they?”
“I call them wild chickens.” Olaf nodded to Erik. “You did a good job with the horses.” He set the rifle down and picked up his pail.
The trip back with the full barrels was slower, but the stoneboat moved more smoothly. They dropped two barrels off at the sod house, then Erik drove on with Olaf to get Elsa.
After unloading the water, Olaf got a piece of wire about a half-metre long. “I snared rabbits in Minnesota,” he said. “Now I shoot them, but it’s more expensive, especially if you miss.” He made a small loop at one end of the wire, pulled the other end through, then made a loop at that end. The resulting circle was big enough for a rabbit’s head to slip through easily.
“Rabbits are most active at night,” Olaf said as he tied a string onto the second small loop, “so check your snares each morning or a coyote might get the rabbit first.”
“Coyotes look like small wolves?” guessed Erik.
“That’s right,” said Olaf. “Watch your chickens. They’ll eat them, too.”
He dug a large stick firmly into the ground and tied the string to it. “When the rabbit gets caught, it struggles. The string tied to this stick is what makes the snare tighten.” He used a couple of smaller sticks to hold the snare open and in place.
“Understand?” asked Olaf. At Erik’s nod, he removed the sticks and tossed the snare to Erik. “Find a good spot to set it.”
Erik set three snares that day. In the morning they were all empty, though one had been sprung.
After resetting the trap, he took the milk pail into the shed. Tess still refused to stand still. He had to find a way to tie her in place, but today his concern was finding grass. When he looked around, the grass was eaten to the ground on every side of the house.
Rolf, leading the oxen to the plough, glanced at Erik.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“Ja,” said Erik. “There’s no more grass, not close by.”
“So we just tether the animals further away.”
“Maybe,” said Erik tentatively. “Maybe we don’t need to tether them.”
Rolf looked at him blankly.
“We could just let them roam on their own,” said Erik. ”They should come back here for water.”
“But what if they don’t? Or if they’re far away when we need them?”
“We can try it first with Tess,” said Erik, knowing he would be the one searching if the cow didn’t return.
“Fine.” Rolf lifted the yoke over the oxen’s heads. “We need to put up hay for the winter,” he said. “You can cut grass while I break land.”
Erik nodded, then led the cow to the slough and slipped the rope off her neck. “Don’t get lost,” he said warningly. “We want your milk.”
Back at the shed, Erik dragged the scythe outside. It was a large tool with a long curved blade and a wooden handle. Two handgrips stuck out of the handle at right angles, one at the top, one about halfway down.
Erik sharpened the blade with a whetstone. Taking both the scythe and the whetstone, he set off for the slough with the saskatoon bushes.
Though he’d never used a scythe, Erik knew how it was supposed to work. He swung it from the right to the left, trying to skim above the ground, leaving a tidy swath by his side.
Whump! The scythe dug into the soil, coming to an abrupt halt. Erik tried again, missing the ground, but cutting taller than he wanted. He swung one more time, glad no one was watching.
Whack! The scythe hit a half-buried stone.
Erik dropped the scythe and threw
Several brown, chicken-like birds lifted off the ground. Some flew into the bushes by the spring, others fluttered across the prairie.
The horses started at the sound of the rifle. Erik pulled hard on the reins to keep the horses from moving.
“Let ’em go.” Olaf walked beside the horses, stooping to pick up a dead bird.
“They make good eating,” he said, dropping it onto the stoneboat.
“What are they?”
“I call them wild chickens.” Olaf nodded to Erik. “You did a good job with the horses.” He set the rifle down and picked up his pail.
The trip back with the full barrels was slower, but the stoneboat moved more smoothly. They dropped two barrels off at the sod house, then Erik drove on with Olaf to get Elsa.
After unloading the water, Olaf got a piece of wire about a half-metre long. “I snared rabbits in Minnesota,” he said. “Now I shoot them, but it’s more expensive, especially if you miss.” He made a small loop at one end of the wire, pulled the other end through, then made a loop at that end. The resulting circle was big enough for a rabbit’s head to slip through easily.
“Rabbits are most active at night,” Olaf said as he tied a string onto the second small loop, “so check your snares each morning or a coyote might get the rabbit first.”
“Coyotes look like small wolves?” guessed Erik.
“That’s right,” said Olaf. “Watch your chickens. They’ll eat them, too.”
He dug a large stick firmly into the ground and tied the string to it. “When the rabbit gets caught, it struggles. The string tied to this stick is what makes the snare tighten.” He used a couple of smaller sticks to hold the snare open and in place.
“Understand?” asked Olaf. At Erik’s nod, he removed the sticks and tossed the snare to Erik. “Find a good spot to set it.”
Erik set three snares that day. In the morning they were all empty, though one had been sprung.
After resetting the trap, he took the milk pail into the shed. Tess still refused to stand still. He had to find a way to tie her in place, but today his concern was finding grass. When he looked around, the grass was eaten to the ground on every side of the house.
Rolf, leading the oxen to the plough, glanced at Erik.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“Ja,” said Erik. “There’s no more grass, not close by.”
“So we just tether the animals further away.”
“Maybe,” said Erik tentatively. “Maybe we don’t need to tether them.”
Rolf looked at him blankly.
“We could just let them roam on their own,” said Erik. ”They should come back here for water.”
“But what if they don’t? Or if they’re far away when we need them?”
“We can try it first with Tess,” said Erik, knowing he would be the one searching if the cow didn’t return.
“Fine.” Rolf lifted the yoke over the oxen’s heads. “We need to put up hay for the winter,” he said. “You can cut grass while I break land.”
Erik nodded, then led the cow to the slough and slipped the rope off her neck. “Don’t get lost,” he said warningly. “We want your milk.”
Back at the shed, Erik dragged the scythe outside. It was a large tool with a long curved blade and a wooden handle. Two handgrips stuck out of the handle at right angles, one at the top, one about halfway down.
Erik sharpened the blade with a whetstone. Taking both the scythe and the whetstone, he set off for the slough with the saskatoon bushes.
Though he’d never used a scythe, Erik knew how it was supposed to work. He swung it from the right to the left, trying to skim above the ground, leaving a tidy swath by his side.
Whump! The scythe dug into the soil, coming to an abrupt halt. Erik tried again, missing the ground, but cutting taller than he wanted. He swung one more time, glad no one was watching.
Whack! The scythe hit a half-buried stone.
Erik dropped the scythe and threw
Similar Books
